Give Them Something To Talk About
by ayell
Summary: “They’re talking about us Potter,” the blonde said, still smirking, “they think we’re shagging. They think we’re lovers ― boyfriends. You want that, Potter?”


Title: Give Them Something To Talk About

Author: ab102

Notes: Thank you, Fantasia, for singing this on American Idol. Otherwise, I wouldn't have come across it. This is the first time I write something PWP related --" so, i'm sorry if it sucks --"

Warnings: Fluff (a bit), okay, not really.

―

"Well?" his voice drawled, glaring.

"Well what?" and without waiting for an answer, "I didn't start anything!"

"Don't deny it, Potter," a glare. "How could they even _consider_ anything like that without _you_ telling them?"

"Why can't you get it through that thick head of yours, Malfoy?" hot breath on skin. A firm whisper. "I _didn't_ start anything."

"I won't take that, Potter."

"D'you think I'd care?"

"Well seeing as you started ―"

"I didn't." firm. A silent smile plays on his lips. "Seeing all _your_ accusations, I'd've thought _you_ started it; pinning it on me so that you'd get me, eh?"

A disgusted look. "You're sick, Potter."

"Am I?" a smirk. Leaning in, a tongue shelling out, and a lick on his ear, leaving a wet trail that could have damned him whatever he did.

Shiver.

"Perhaps." And it's still Harry who's talking. He leans back, turning the other's face to look at him.

A caress on his cheek, soft and gentle, like a mother's touch.

Like a lover's touch.

A touch he reserved only for this person. This Draco.

_His_ Draco.

Now it's Draco who leans in. And he kisses his companion, soft lips coming in contact with his own.

―

He wants to register everything. His smell, his feel, his touch, the move of his lips against his own, the heat of his breath, the gentle flutter of the closing of his eyes, right down to the tingle of his lips when they had held back for breath.

But he couldn't.

He was numb. Numb with want. With _need_. He had never imagined it would come down to this. He was breathing in short lapses. Closing his eyes and trying to recapture the feeling of Harry's mouth against his, how they fit so perfectly with each other.

"…" that was Harry's eyes, looking at him, green and full of lust. Silently asking permission if they could do it again.

Well, of course.

Leaning back in, he kissed the Gryffindor fully. Circling his arms around the other one's waist and feeling Harry's hands hold his head gently. He tilted his head slightly, getting full access to Harry's magical mouth. Soft and hot and wanting all at the same time.

He just _needed _it. If the kiss ended now, he felt as if he was going to shrivel up and die from loss of contact. Like his life was hanging by a thread, a thread that Harry held.

Harry's torso ground against his, and they're erections rubbed against each other. The friction was unbelievable. Stars popped into his vision, his head became light. A mutual moan sounded. He continued grinding against Harry, squeezing his firm behind.

Harry was the first to hold back. Gasping for air.

"God, Malfoy," a gulp, still panting. "That was…" he seemed at a loss for words, just shaking his head in disbelief.

The Slytherin just smirked, one of his quite notable talents. He squeezed the dark haired boy's arse again for good measure, grinding his thigh against Harry's very big erection. He licked his lips.

"Damn," head thrown back, Harry closed his eyes and moaned in pure lust, seemingly lost. "Draco…"

The blonde smirked, though his erection was hurting quite a bit from seeing Harry's reaction as well as his erection, all the while knowing that he had caused it.

"You like that," not even a question.

"God yes…"

"You like my rather thigh grinding into you're noticeably big and hard erection, weeping and oozing out pre-come. You like my firm hands squeezing you arse and you like me kneading them until they become sore." At this, he slapped a hand to Harry's arse.

"Shit… Yesss… Oh fuck… Draco…"

Another smirk. "So that's what makes you say my name, then, hmm?"

Harry seemed to be too lost to answer this with a witty remark. He just moaned and ground his hips.

"They're talking about us Potter," the blonde said, still smirking, "they think we're shagging. They think we're lovers ― boyfriends. You want that, Potter?"

"Hell yeah…" the blonde man chuckled, he was quite sure Harry had no idea what he was saying 'yeah' to.

But what this seemingly drunk-with-lust man did and said next surprised Draco, though he would have later denied that.

The Gryffindor said, "Oh God" and swiftly curled his arms around the blonde's neck and kissed him with all the lust, care and love in the world.

"Now you're officially mine," a smirk not unlike the blonde's. "What say, dearest? Let's give them something to talk about."

And then he came.


End file.
